


Just To Dream In The Moonlight

by cortexikid



Series: A Regular Fuckin' Frank Sinatra [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Eddie doesn't feel too good about it, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Looks like this is becoming a series, M/M, Mutual Pining, Richie catches Eddie singing again, Richie is on a date, but you don't need to read the first part to get this, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23056432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cortexikid/pseuds/cortexikid
Summary: Richie Tozier was on a date.Eddie Kaspbrak was not.He had died, come back, divorced his wife, moved half-way across the country, only to find himself working from home on a Saturday night while his roommate, best friend and, oh yeah, love of his pathetic fucking life, went out to dinner with some handsome, single, ‘Instagram model.’Fuck his life.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: A Regular Fuckin' Frank Sinatra [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656979
Comments: 14
Kudos: 172





	Just To Dream In The Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> So this niggling idea I had about Eddie being able to sing has really...become a thing, huh? Enjoy!
> 
> Also, a very Happy Birthday to Trashmouth himself! Woo! Hopefully in some universe, he got his happy ending...in more ways than one lol ;)

Richie Tozier was on a date.

Eddie Kaspbrak was not.

Instead, he was at home, the home he had been sharing with Richie for five months now, hunched over his laptop at the kitchen table and steadily building up a knot in the base of his spine because he was too fucking old for this shit.

Fuck his life.

He had died, come back, divorced his wife, moved half-way across the country, only to find himself working from home on a Saturday night while his roommate, best friend and, oh yeah, love of his pathetic fucking life, went out to dinner with some handsome, single, ‘Instagram model.’ 

_I mean, what the fuck even is that anyway?_

Eddie knew this day would come, of course. Had seen it almost instantly after Richie came out, live on stage.

Richie was a catch. He was funny, smart, and...yeah, he’d admit, handsome. Bev was right. He did ‘grow into his looks.’ 

So, it didn’t take a genius to realise that him coming out would soon draw the attention of all the eligible men within a hundred mile radius and for them to show their interest. They’d be fools not to.

_And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Kaspbrak?_

With a groan, Eddie dragged a palm down his face, snapping his laptop shut and pushing it away from him. He had to cut out this wallowing bullshit. It wasn’t a good look, at all. 

Richie was on a date and that was...good.

_Right?_

Eddie, as a good friend, should think that’s a good thing. Then again - has Eddie always been a good friend?

With a roll of his eyes, he shut down that line of thinking, knowing it was the blame of the two glasses of wine he had just inhaled while pouring over Teddy’s illegible ‘reports’ while trying to ignore what Richie could possibly be doing right about now.

_Or who,_ his mind added scathingly. 

Shaking his head, Eddie mentally-scolded himself for his stupid, jealous streak. 

Richie had left just over an hour ago, throwing him a half-hearted wave, muttering a low, “Won’t be long, Eds. Trust me,” and snapping the door shut behind him. It hardly screamed a guy who intended on having a little Wham, Bam, Thank you, Sam. 

_Not that there’s anything wrong with a one-night-stand. Richie is a consenting adult,_ Eddie’s treacherous brain reminded him. 

Despite this, Richie had insisted, all this week that it was “practically a business dinner.” Something that his publicist had apparently set up that was more than a little mandatory for some bullshit-Hollywood-reason. 

Richie had not seemed too psyched about it either. Lamenting to Eddie more than once that he didn’t have time for “aging-ex-Disney-stars-looking-for-the-ultimate-selfie-or-whatever.”

But that had been before he had seen the picture.

Up-and-coming actor and singer, Dylan Lemass was...hot. Even Eddie could concede that. And, he was a little more age-appropriate (at 33) than most guys DMing Richie at four in the morning.

Richie hadn’t been quite quick enough at hiding his impressed eyebrow quirk at the picture sent to him by Bev after some googling. 

“He looks...nice,” Eddie had ground out through clenched jaw, heart panging as Richie began to nod.

“Uh, yeah. I guess. If...if that’s your type.” 

“Richie, that guy is everybody’s type.” 

He had looked at Eddie then, something indecipherable on his face. 

“I’m not usually into...blonds.” 

_Usually._

That had been the only word to ring in Eddie’s head. 

“Well,” he forced himself to shrug, punching Richie harder than he intended on the shoulder, “just see how it goes. You never know...he might...he might be your Mr Right.” 

Fuck, actually, Eddie was a damn good friend, okay? He had encouraged Richie, “Mr Right” and all that shit, and helped him pick between two (admittedly ugly) shirts and everything. 

He was friend of the fucking year.

Friend.

_Just a friend._

With a sigh, he crossed to the fridge, fully intending to help himself to the leftover cheesecake that Richie had bought them in celebration of four months of Eddie allowing himself dairy again.

“I know you belong to somebody new,” he sang under his breath, the old song he had heard on the radio this morning continuing to be an ear-worm, “but tonight, you belong to me.” 

He crossed the kitchen to get a spoon from the drawer, because it was an eating-straight-from-the-container-despite-that-being-gross kinda night, and sticking it directly into the strawberry mousse. 

“Although we’re apart, you’re a part of my heart,” he continued, cheesecake in one hand and picking up his half-empty glass with the other, making his way out to the couch.

“But tonight, you belong to—”

“A bit of Eddie Vedder, huh? Eddie squared, I like it.” 

He jumped so high that his red wine sloshed dangerously close to the rim of the glass.

“Fuck, Richie! Don’t scare me like that, dipshit!” 

The man in question snorted out a laugh from his position at the front door, keys still in hand, jacket half off one shoulder.

“I did say ‘honey I’m home,’ Eds. Not my fault you were too busy crooning to notice.” 

Eddie’s face flushed as he collected himself, carefully depositing his glass and cheesecake on the coffee table before straightening up and tilting his head at his friend. 

“You’re home early.” 

He didn't mean for it to sound as accusatory as it did. 

He winced.

“I mean, uh...how’d the date go?” 

Richie’s face was pretty expressionless as he shrugged.

“We wined, dined and sixty-nined. Just how I like it.” 

Eddie’s mouth dropped open.

“Wha—”

“I’m kidding, Eddie, Jesus,” Richie held up his hands as he kicked off his shoes, leaving them by Eddie’s on the rack by the door and padding over in his socks to the couch, sinking down into it with a loud sigh.

“It went exactly like I thought it would,” he mumbled to the ceiling, slipping his glasses up his forehead to rest in his hair, his eyes falling closed.

Eddie watched him for a moment, unsure what to do, before taking a seat beside him, turning to properly look at him.

He seemed...tired. Weary. 

_Sad?_

_Shit._

Time for Eddie to be a good friend. 

“Well, fuck that guy, Rich,” he reached out and clasped Richie’s arm. “He’s clearly a dumbass if he can’t see what a fucking catch you are.” 

Slowly, those dark eyes that Eddie loved so much blinked open, meeting his with something indistinguishable glimmering in them.

“Thanks, Eddie.” 

It was the most sincere Eddie had heard his friend be in a long time.

It made his heart skip a beat.

Quietly, he reached out and picked up the glass and cheesecake, holding it out.

“Wanna watch that new Chris Hansen exposé?” 

A small smile crossed Richie’s face, breaking through the weariness like a soothing balm.

“Sounds like a plan, Eds Spagheds.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, throwing the remote at him before standing up.

“I’m opening another bottle. Don’t start without me.” 

He crossed the room, into the kitchen and towards the fridge. 

“He couldn’t sing for shit either, Eds,” Richie called after him, sounding pained. “He made me suffer through like four YouTube videos of him squawking his way through covers. I wanted to use the steak knife to stab out my own eardrums. It was fucking torture, man. You’re a hell of a lot nicer to listen to.” 

Eddie froze, bottle in hand, the soft, unthinking compliment making him blush from head to toe. 

“Eddie Vedder is technically a cover too,” he reminded him as he fought (and failed) to keep the grin from his face.

“Yeah, I know but...least it’s not the Patience and Prudence version. Talk about creepy. That’s like some Children-of-the-Corn-type shit.”

Eddie snorted out a laugh as he made his way back into the living room, sinking down into the couch, his stomach lurching as his thigh pressed against Richie’s.

Richie held out his cheesecake-topped spoon, dangling it in Eddie’s face and making obnoxious airplane noises.

“Want some before I infect it with my Trashmouth germs, Eds? It’s a one time deal. I know how you feel about double-dipping.” 

Eddie leaned forward, closing his mouth around the spoon, eyes gluing to Richie’s as he swallowed the bite and pulled back slowly.

Richie’s eyes were the size of saucers, clearly shocked that Eddie had called his bluff.

“Uh, I…” he cleared his throat, “it’s good?” 

Eddie smirked, “Yeah, it’s good.” 

“Cool.” 

They lapsed into a short silence, Richie shifting to face the TV just as Chris Hansen popped up and launched into his latest case.

“Thanks, Eds. For the uh...cheesecake.” 

He nodded, deciding not to comment as Richie kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, his shoulder pressing into his as he slowly, carefully, raised the spoon to his own lips.

Eddie blushed like a teenager as he kept his gaze firmly on the TV, trying not to think about the fact that Richie so easily put his mouth somewhere Eddie just had his.

At about the twenty-five minute mark, Eddie felt a soft, familiar pressure close to his neck.

Tilting his head ever so slightly, he saw that Richie had fallen asleep, his cheek pressed into Eddie’s shoulder, his glasses askew.

A small smile spread across his face as Eddie let his own head tip back a little, resting against the couch, the lyrics of that godforsaken song flittering into his brain.

_“Wait down by the stream, how sweet it will seem, once more just to dream in the moonlight…”_

* * *

[More Reddie fics here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cortexikid/works?fandom_id=134900). Come scream [about these Losers with me on Tumblr](http://octoberobserver.tumblr.com) if that's your thing :) [Here's the full song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cUhnQzjXHHY) The lyrics are a bit :/ but it's catchy haha.


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